Mostly Logical
by Eva Drayon
Summary: In an alternate universe far, far away, the USS Enterprise encounters the Heart of Gold. It seems that the crews of both ships have a little bit more in common than they initially thought...written for the STXI Kink Meme on Livejournal. Potential slash.
1. Mostly Logical

**(a/n: Written for the st xi kink meme. Only borrowing for the sake of entertainment.)**

Mostly Logical

They were not a shade of blue (green, actually, but one could hardly tell), but they were still perhaps the most intelligent beings in the galaxy.

"You wish to know the answer."

"Yes," Lunkwill said softly, trying to push a little bit more majesty into the moment.

"To the question."

"Indeed," added Fook, deeming his partner's majestic intonation a failure.

"Of Life."

"Yes," the two scientists said simultaneously.

"The Universe."

"Yesssss ," they said, abandoning majesty for groveling desperation.

"And Everything."

"Please, O Highest Surak. Impart upon us your knowledge," Lunkwill practically screeched. Fook nodded his head enthusiastically beside him.

"Your request…is illogical."

Well damn.

The duo exchanged one long look before turning back to nod at Surak and thanked him, trying not to look heartbroken. They gripped their briefcases a little tighter.

It was back to the drawing room again.

But not before "borrowing" the Vulcans' blueprints for the most stupendous supercomputer the galaxy had ever seen.

**###**

_**Captain's Log, stardate 1701.42:**_

_**Enterprise **_**is currently in orbit around a class M planet that the science records hesitantly call "Magrathea", based upon the old myths. As not much is known about the planet, myself and my crew have been ordered on a classified scientific investigation of its surface. Although, I am inclined to believe that one of my crew knows more about the planet than he his letting on. **

Captain Kirk concluded the audio log, eyes straying over towards the science station where his first officer sat doing calculations. He stood up from the captain's chair and strode over, arm over the console.

"Readings, Mr. Spock?"

The half-Vulcan looked up at him, all business.

"Perfectly habitable atmosphere, Captain. Humanoid life signs detected on planet surface, although they would appear to be in stasis. There is no way to determine from this distance."

"In stasis…that's unusual." Kirk sighed, leaning in closer to speak in a whisper. "Come with me, Commander. I have something I need to ask you about."

Although it was enough to warrant the quirk of an eyebrow, Spock stood to follow the captain to the turbolift.

"Sulu, you have the conn," Kirk shouted over his shoulder as they left. The young helmsman stood, immediately replaced by a red-shirted crew member, and stood in front of the captain's chair.

"Everybody, get your towels ready," he said sort of quietly to the rest of the bridge, "'cuz it's about to go down."

"Aye, laddie," Scotty said zealously from his station, whipping his own towel out, just to know that it was there. They exchanged a knowing look.

###

Kirk looked his first officer in the eyes.

"Spock…what do you know about Magrathea?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but Kirk cut him off.

"Not what you know the records say. What _you _know."

The captain got the feeling that Spock would have sighed and shrugged were he not so Vulcan. But resignation was an emotion.

"I request that we discuss this in my quarters, Captain," he said quietly, and Kirk responded with a nod.

Once inside, the half-Vulcan reached over to a drawer and pulled out an electronic book. On the cover were the words "Don't Panic!" The captain restrained a snort of laughter, thinking that that was good advice, and waited for an explanation.

"A long time ago," Spock began as he quickly keyed something into the book's index.

"In a galaxy, far, far away?" Kirk supplied, unable to help himself. This only earned him a glare.

"A great many centuries ago," Spock amended, "the planet Magrathea was used as a base for the industry of…creating luxury planets."

"_Creating planets?_" Kirk repeated, incredulous. He quickly realized the implications. "What…? How…?"

"Although the venture was successful, it caused a vast increase in the socio-economic disparity of that sector of the galaxy, and therefore, no one was able to afford these luxury planets." Spock handed him the electronic book, and he took it, staring in awe at the display. All the information was there. From the planet's characteristics, a rather superfluous description of its twin suns, and finally, its place wealth-wise in the former Galactic Empire.

"Almost three centuries ago, your own Earth was destroyed."

Kirk looked up from the strange book to give Spock his full attention.

"Destroyed, Spock?"

"The majority of Earth did not even realize, as it was eventually replaced with a planet the Magratheans developed called 'Earth Mark II'."

Kirk didn't even want to think about how little that made sense. So many questions. But first.

"What is this book?" he blurted. "It's not Starfleet; it's not even Federation…"

"No, Captain, it is not. It is called the _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_, and I am an editor for it."

**###**

"Oh, for _Zarquon's sake_, Marvin!" Zaphod Beeblebrox bellowed on the bridge of the _Heart of Gold_. "Shut _up _about your bloody diodes! There is no pain! Robots do. not. zarking. feel PAIN!" He chucked his empty glass at the Paranoid Android, not really paying attention as the robot stood in a mechanical huff, mumbling something about humans and his vastly superior, planet-sized brain. Zaphod went to take another sip from his glass, then realized he had just thrown it at Marvin. And that was a very unfortunate predicament.

"Wait, Marvin, come back! I need someone to make me another Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster!"

He waited a moment.

"_MARVIN!_"

"He's not coming back." A little sigh came from the door to the bridge as Arthur Dent entered.

"Oh, well, then _you _get to entertain me, Monkey Man," Zaphod said dryly. Arthur ignored him, searching for Ford. He found him beneath the potted palm, staring slightly catatonically off into space with that four Gargle Blaster stare. Arthur leaned over him.

"Hello, Arthur," Ford broke into one of those tremendous awkward grins at the sight of his friend, and Arthur suddenly had the powerful feeling of reverse déjà vu. And imminent danger. But that was only a slight side-effect of remaining in a Betelguesian's company.

"Ford," the Earthman said sort of impatiently, "I need to talk to you about that day on Santraginus V…"

"Have a drink, Arthur." Ford shot up, shoving a martini glass in his hands.

"No, I don't think so, Ford," he mumbled, looking at the glass and wholeheartedly wishing it was tea.

"Fine, then, more for me," Ford said, then snatched the glass away from him and tossed it back with ease.

In the meantime, Zaphod had managed to procure himself another drink, and was putzing around with the Improbability Drive.

"Somebody give me some coordinates to input into this thing!" he shouted.

"How about…" Arthur said cautiously, dredging from his memory, "How about…"

###

"…Two to the power of one hundred thousand to one against," Spock concluded. "Although even the Vulcan Science Academy has concluded that despite the unlikelihood of having Vulcan restored…"

"It would still be logical to try," Kirk nodded eagerly, smiling slightly. He put a hand on his first officer's shoulder. "Don't worry, Mr. Spock. We will try."

The Vulcan nodded. Confiding in the captain about the Science Academy's wish to reawaken Magrathea again had been a wise idea. Kirk turned to leave, eyes lingering on the _Guide _where he had replaced it onto the desk earlier.

"…May I?" he asked, reaching towards the book.

"Certainly," Spock responded. "You may find some research to be beneficial."

The captain nodded again, looking down at the book for a moment before taking it into his hands.

"Thanks," he said sincerely before turning out of the room and heading for his own quarters to study the strange electronic book.

###

Ensign Agrajag peered contentedly out through the force field separating the Engineering deck of the NCC-1701 from the black of outer space. It was the twenty-third century, and Arthur Philip Dent would have been dead for about 150 years. Agrajag felt a sense of accomplishment rush through him. He had survived. He had survived this long, and this might finally, _finally _be the life he lived to the fullest, dying of natural causes, or by something, _anything _else other than at the hand of the one who had murdered him thousands and thousands of times.

His decision to attend Starfleet Academy was an excellent one. He deeply enjoyed his work with the warp core with his fellow crewmates, and foresaw a quick progression in rank. Perhaps, one day, he could even command a starship of his own. All in all, a fairly decent incarnation, he thought smugly, tugging down his red tunic and gazing off into space.

A gleaming white spaceship shaped vaguely like a tennis-shoe popped into existence a parsec or two ahead.

Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott looked up in alarm at the gurgling noises coming from one felled ensign near the window.

"Och, laddie, what's troublin' ye?" he asked tentatively.

"DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENT!" Agrajag screeched. "I'LL BE DAMNED IF YOU KILL ME THIS TIME!"

The young ensign suddenly stood and stormed from the deck, hissing horrible curses and obscenities.

"I wonder what's got his towel in a snit?" Scotty mumbled, returning back to a rather intrusive maintenance check-up with the Jeffries tubes.

###

Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz had to admit: his current plans for the day only involved half the blatant sadism and nowhere near the amount of petty revenge. It was almost a tempting offer. Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz settled loudly back onto his gazellelike-creature seat and took up his mallet again, crushing a bejeweled crab for the umpteenth time that day.

"But why _should _I destroy an entire spaceship just to blow up your mortal enemy?" he drawled to the red-shirted figure on the view screen. "I mean, what's in it

for me?"

"I don't _know_," Agrajag snapped. "The satisfaction of a job badly done, or whatever else you'd like."

"Perhaps…" Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz said, looking off into space, "I can read someone my latest poem."

He looked at Agrajag with some strange, distorted version of a smile.

"It's a doozy."

###

**(a/n: Well, this is fun. ****Suggestions greatly welcome; working on chapter 2 but don't quite have enough yet**.)


	2. So Long, and Thanks for all the Whales

**(a/n: Oh, my. This is getting away from me very, very quickly. It is also loads of fun.)**

Chapter 2: So Long, and Thanks for all the Whales

"Well, Zarquon's balls," a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster said, shocked. It spilled itself a little trying to get adjusted on the bridge.

"Where are we?" asked an old-fashioned bottle of Ol' Janx Spirit.

"How should I know?" gurgled a small cup of Earl Grey.

A door moaned in orgasmic pleasure as a glass of orange juice arrived on the bridge as well, inquiring what Zaphod had gotten them into this time. It was followed by a dirty glass of murky river water.

The shipboard computer chimed in.

"HEY THERE, guys, I'm sure you'll all be tickled pink to know that Improbability is at 35, 200 to one against and falling."

Five sentient beverages stood in place for a moment.

"Normality has been restored. Isn't life great?"

"Magrathea, again," Zaphod exclaimed, back in normal form (albeit dripping). Curious, he licked himself. Yup. He was pretty delicious.

"Drink?" Ford raised his eyebrows at Arthur, offering a saturated arm. Arthur was too busy lapping quickly cooling tea from his person to notice. Ford decided that he would offer his assistance.

"Why Magrathea? Why Magrathea?" Zaphod repeated, pacing about the controls. Trillian opened her mouth, then stopped for a moment, realizing how unpleasantly sticky she was.

"I guess something very improbable is about to happen," she said, reaching down to help Marvin dry off. He complained, and wandered away towards the Improbability Drive switch to mope.

"Ford. Ford! What are you doing?!"

"It's been awhile since I've had tea too, Arthur."

"But that certainly doesn't mean that you can--"

Arthur was suddenly cut off. Zaphod and Trillian remained oblivious.

"What could possibly be so improbable that it needed us?" Zaphod asked.

"Perhaps that," Trillian pointed out through the viewscreen at a large ship with a saucer and twin nacelles.

"I think," Marvin said to all the commotion, "that I shall stand here and drip."

Nobody objected.

###

Kirk had just finished perusing the entry on the Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts of Traal and was moving on to the cross-linked page on Vogons when his communicator sounded.

"Lieutenant Uhura to Captain Kirk," filtered through.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" he answered.

"Sir, you might want to come take a look at this. A ship has suddenly appeared in orbit beside us. It's called the _Heart of Gold_."

There had been a few entries on that ship in the _Guide_. This would prove interesting.

"And, also, I've intercepted a transmission from one Ensign Agrajag to a Vogon Constructor Ship. You may want to contact Security. Just in case."

"I'm on my way. Thank you, Lieutenant. Kirk out."

###

"Well, what do you think, Zaphod?" Trillian asked. "Perhaps we should tell them?"

"Well, they obviously wouldn't _be _here if they didn't know what Magrathea was," Zaphod rolled his eyes. "There's nothing to do here. Let's go to a party. I like parties."

"Oooh, could we possibly find the kind with the cocktails and the little wieners? I'm famished," Ford chimed in.

Arthur Dent let his mind wander about for a moment, eyes drifting to the space outside. Yellow, he thought fleetingly, wondering about maybe acquiring some food himself.

Yellow?

Arthur gasped. Oh, not here. Oh, not now.

"Erm…erm, hey, you guys…" he said.

"D'ya think they might have shrimp puffs?" asked Trillian.

"Oooh, shrimp puffs, yeah," Ford agreed, "though I could do with some chips myself, really."

"Erm, hello…" Arthur cleared his throat.

"Oooh, yeah! But really, there had better be booze," Zaphod added.

"HEY, YOU LOT. THERE IS A VOGON CONSTRUCTOR SHIP RIGHT OUTSIDE."

"I loathe parties," Marvin contributed.

"What?!" the rest of the group said, but Arthur had already run toward the Improbability drive.

"Move over, please, Marvin," Arthur panted at the robot. Marvin shuffled dejectedly toward the left.

"Hey, you guys, just thought you might like to know: we're being hailed by the Federation starship _Enterprise_," Eddy the shipboard computer called ecstatically.

"Um…on-screen, I guess," Zaphod replied, shifting eyes for a second at a struggling Arthur.

"THE BLASTED THING WON'T OPERATE!" he shouted at the console.

"I'm so sorry, but it seems that my systems have jammed," Eddy said helpfully.

"Jammed?"

"Yes; there's been an electrical short circuit. Some murky river water. And a rock or two."

They all glared accusingly at Marvin.

"I think I'll go calculate the meaning of life again. Or die," Marvin droned.

"Um…hello?" a face over the view screen inquired.

"Oh, if only," Marvin said before trudging off.

"Er, hi. We're kinda busy at the moment, so, er," Zaphod said, impatiently.

"You see, we're trying to help you," the young blond man on the other side explained, patiently. "I am Captain James T. Ki—"

"Yes, yes, of the starship _Enterprise_, we get it, right, but we really, really, really need to get away from this Vogon Constructor Ship over yonder, d'ya see it? It's _large_, and _yellow_, and _deathly_…"

"Exactly!"

"Oh, God, I think they're about to fire!"

"Listen, we can help. Why are the Vogons--?"

"No, they _ARE _about to fire!"

"Oh, forget it. Lock onto coordinates!"

"We're going to die now, aren't we?"

"Prepare for ship to ship transport!"

"You damn humans and all your _obvious _nonsense!"

"Beam up successful."

The last particle of matter realigned itself into place under the transporter bean and two humans, two Betelgeusians, and a potted plant looked around in alarm. Well, the potted plant stayed put, but the writer is going to assume that the good readers will understand.

"Welcome to the _Enterprise_," a curly-haired boy panted at them in a Russian accent.

Zaphod jumped off of the transporter platform, looking around madly.

"Where's the _Heart of Gold_?" he asked loudly.

The captain then arrived in the transporter room. Zaphod pointed at him.

"You! What's happened to the _Heart of Gold_?"

"…You'd better come with me," Kirk said, looking seriously at the four before turning back out of the room with the hydraulic swish of a door.

"Oh, looks like this Federation hasn't invested in the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation," Ford said the name with disdain. "That would be quite distracting, wouldn't it? Red alert, and the door is trying to explain to you that it can't let you leave until it's expressed its utmost pleasure in being the portal to your emergency evacuation."

"The Revolution must have come…" Zaphod murmured agreement. The group followed the captain out to the observation deck.

Magrathea loomed outside well beneath them in space. The crew members of the _Heart of Gold _searched for their ship, but the space outside was black but for the stars.

"My ship!" Zaphod exclaimed, "My ship, it's been--"

"_Your _ship?" Trillian cut in. "As I recall, Zaphod, you _stole _that ship."

"Yeah, and it doesn't get much froodier than that, does it?" he grinned. "But it was still mine. That's what happens when you steal something, y'know. It becomes yours."

"So…what now?" Arthur asked.

"Is this ship headed to a party, by any chance?" Ford asked.

"No, no parties," Kirk shook his head. "Now, if any of you would like to tell me why the Vogons have just destroyed your ship…"

"You know just as much about that as we do. There we were, just minding our own business…well, mostly," Ford replied. "Why are we here?"

"We just beamed every living thing on that ship over here."

"Which is most likely why there is a potted plant in the ship's transporter room," another voice said from the door. The group all glanced up at the half-Vulcan coming from the doorway towards the captain.

"Captain, your presence is needed on the bridge."

"I'll be right up, Mr. Spock," Kirk said with a smile. "Would you accompany me? I'm taking these people to the bridge.

Arthur, Ford, Zaphod, and Trillian all watched the stoic man with pointed ears nod, and they all filed out of the observation deck.

"Every living thing…" Trillian said softly. "Marvin!" she cried. The others shifted guiltily and glanced at her, not having have given a rat's ass about Marvin until that point.

"Well, it's what he wanted," Arthur sighed.

"Oh, I dunno," Ford drawled, "he might have wanted to complain at us a bit more before he went. Superior intellect, and all."

"Poor thing," Trillian said wistfully. "I hated him."

###

A simpering Ensign Agrajag trotted down the hallway on the way from his shift, terribly pleased with himself and life in general. The Vogons, for once, had kept up their end of the bargain. He might have been inclined to sing.

Agrajag spotted the captain and first officer coming down the hallway. He saluted enthusiastically, catching a warm smile from the former and a calculating glance from the latter. Behind them trailed a motley crew—a badly dressed man with two heads, a darkish woman with dark eyes and dark hair, another man wearing a satchel and clutching a towel, and—

Arthur Dent.

Agrajag screamed. A terrible, terrible defeated scream. And ran. A terribly, terribly desperate run.

The traveling party stopped, and looked around for one terrible, terribly confused movement.

"You, ensign," Kirk pointed at another officer in the general vicinity. "Make sure that officer reports to sickbay immediately.

The ensign saluted. Space madness. Happened to the best of them.

###

"JELTZ!"

The screen crackled to life, revealing an apathetic blob of Vogon.

"That would be Prostetnic Vogo--"

"BEAM MYSLF AND THE BRIDGE CREW ALL ABOARD YOUR SHIP! I WAN THE WORST TORTURE IMAGINABLE FOR THE LOT OF THEM, BUT SAVE DENT FOR LAST!"

"Brilliant timing. You see, I've just completed a fantastic sonnet about the rings of soap scum in the communal bath…"

###

**(a/n: Don't worry, I promise, sort of, that I won't lose interest. The fangirl in me doesn't quite want to let go of the Vogon poetry torture scene I have planned…hee hee hee…**

**Doncha know, this crossover was made to be…but from what I gather, Adams was a little disdainful of the whole **_**Trek **_**experience, a little. I don't know, but I got the impression that he felt it was kinda silly. I certainly don't. **

**If you see any errors you'd like fixed, definitely notify me. I squirm at every one I see in other fics, but I don't always have an eagle eye for mine. And I don't think I need suggestions, but…there was maybe a sequel attacking my brain. DOWN PLOT BUNNY DOWN. No promises.)**


	3. The Wrath of Agrajag

**(a/n: Okay, okay, I'm so so sorry for late updates. Real life has been kicking my ass. And I'm gonna admit, I spend more of my time **_**reading **_**on the new kink meme than I do **_**filling **_**for the new kink meme. But I'm still here. Slowly but surely, I am getting this finished. Thanks, you awesome, loyal watchers for your fantastic reviews; you don't even know how happy any sort of feedback makes me. Here, have some fic.)**

Chapter 3: The Wrath of Agrajag

After that strange moment, the procession continued back on its journey to the bridge. Arthur looked around him. Behind him, Trillian analyzed the workings of the ship, and Zaphod plotted to steal it. Next to him, Ford was giving his old towel a close inspection, mumbling incoherencies. Arthur looked forward. The expressionless alien man and his charismatic captain had fallen into perfect stride beside each other. They hovered together in a manner that Arthur thought would uncomfortably close. Realizing this, he took a step away from Ford, who shot him one of those disconcerting grins and mouthed, "Exciting, eh?"

Arthur rather didn't think so. He let his eyes wander back to the two people ahead of him, and glanced around at the crew scattered about. The vast majority of them were humanoid, and upon closer inspection, Arthur realized that most _were _human.

"Er, Captain?" he asked, one finger raised in conjecture, "this ship's crew…where are most of them from?"

"Most of us are human," the captain replied. "Some members of the crew are colonists from other planets, but a lot are from Earth." He suddenly broke into a wide grin and gestured at the man standing next to him. "Why, even our resident alien is part human."

Said "resident alien" straightened and clasped his hands more securely behind his back; remaining stony faced. Arthur nodded. Wherever they were, it was a skewed version of his own timeline.

A welcoming hydraulic whoosh of a door preceded the group's entrance onto the bridge. The members of the former starship _Heart of Gold_ crew looked about in awe at the sterile, glittering bridge of the flagship of the Federation and those at work on it.

"Welcome to the bridge," Captain Kirk said, and Arthur wondered if the man ever stopped grinning.

###

Whirling about in the glittering starts somewhere was a little blue box. It has nothing to do with this story.

###

Trillian wandered over to what was the communications station of the bridge and hovered about for a moment, curious.

"What's all this for?" she asked the pretty dark-skinned girl who manned the station.

"It's where we receive and translate all incoming signals, to begin with," the woman said. "Many are in alien languages and dialects."

"So, you've never heard of a Babel fish?"

"Excuse me?"

Trillian didn't really want to put the nice young lady out of a job.

"Never mind," she said, and went off to go make sure Zaphod didn't try to hijack the ship that had saved them. It would have been awkward. Uhura looked on after her, mentally making a note to look up this Babel fish when her console beeped.

"We're being hailed," she said.

"Onscreen."

The view screen filled with horrible images: Vogons and their ship. Some crew members recoiled violently in fear. Some gagged. Several poor souls simply couldn't take it and collapsed into dead faints.

"Why hello there," Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz whined, "we're about to torture some of you to death. Just thought I should let you know."

Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz gave the slightest of smiles at his own chivalry and pressed the matter-transference beam button on his console.

###

"Urghxfhghh," Arthur Dent said. "I recognize this place."

"'Urghxfhghh' is right," Ford Prefect said, rearranging himself and his satchel. "We're on a Vogon Constructor Ship."

"URGHXFHGHH." Said Arthur Dent.

"Okay. Everybody remain calm," the captain said, "we need to find out what's going on."

"I'll tell you what's going on," Ford shouted, "Vogons! That's what's going on!"

"Alright, then. Let's take stock of the situation."

Kirk tried to recall who had been nearest him on the bridge before the involuntary beam-up: the CMO, probing for information ("Dammit, Jim, what the hell is going on?"), his first officer, the communications officer, and the group they had just saved from the spontaneously combusting ship. They all met roll call. Plus one completely inexplicable potted plant.

The door to the storage compartment they were stuffed into creaked open, letting the light from outside in. They wished it hadn't; greeting them was Ensign Agrajag, a diabolical expression possessing his entire body. There was madness in those eyes, there were a million vengeances concealed in that terrible smile. There were myriad pointless deaths within that often-reincarnated soul. To put it simply: he looked enraged. He looked crazy. He looked like he needed a good hug.

"Ensign!" Kirk shouted, but Agrajag only had eyes for one.

"Dent," he growled, and Arthur tried to pretend he didn't squeak. "It's finally time."

"Time for what?" McCoy shouted, but Agrajag ignored him.

"I'm saving that pathetic scumbag for last," he snarled, backing away as a Vogon guard entreated into the space. He cleared his throat.

"RESISTANCE IS USELESS!" he shouted, and they all recoiled from the noise. "All right, you lot, we're gonna do this systematically. Who wants to get read poetry first? If you don't comply, we'll toss you out the airlock. Haven't done that in a while."

"A quite outdated practice; the Vogons have utilized it for centuries," Spock commented.

"Poetry?" the captain inquired, "what's to resist about poetry?"

"In Vogon parlance, the word 'poetry' might as well be a synonym for 'excruciating torture', Captain. The Vogons' poetry is so bad that it has caused smaller, more defenseless planets to implode in order to keep gravitational equilibrium within their solar system, as too many of its inhabitants had imploded in order to escape the agony."

Kirk stared at his first officer for a moment.

"Certainly."

"ANY VOLUNTEERS?" the Vogon guard shrieked. "You'd best hurry up, or I shoot the one in charge. Who's the one in charge?" he turned to Agrajag.

"The one in gold."

"Somebody had better volunteer, or I shoot the one in g—"

"I shall go," Spock stepped forward.

"No!" Uhura gasped.

"Do not be concerned. Out of all of us, I will be the least affected."

"Wait!" Kirk shouted, but the guard had already led him away.

"Didn't that righteous bastard just get finished telling us about implosions?" McCoy scoffed.

"Yeah, but Vulcans are exempt from all of that," Ford said. "Superior intellect, and all."

"I thought some of that was only rumors," Zaphod mumbled.

"Well," Kirk said, gesturing to the still open door, "I'm not just gonna stand here and wait."

Uhura was already halfway out the door. The rest followed, running out to catch up with Agrajag, the guard, and their prisoner.

By the time they had run down the constructor ship's corridors, the batshit crazy ensign, his Vogon crony, and Spock had already disappeared into the recital area.

"Wait right here," Kirk stopped outside the door and held a hand up to stop the rest of them abruptly. "I'm going in."

"Are you crazy?" Ford cried, "You'll flood the whole compartment!"

"He'll die!"

"He's dead already. It's too late."

Kirk peered through the glass window in the door, hand helplessly placed on the glass. He had the strangest sense of déjà vu. Uhura shoved him out of the way to get a look through the door. They glared at each other for a split second, then Kirk recuperated and they stood staring through the glass side by side.

"Sorry, Captain," Uhura murmured, and he nodded once.

Inside the room, the Vulcan was being strapped into some strange restraint by the putrid Vogon guard. ("Poetry Appreciation Chair," Ford whispered.) The larger, surlier Vogon squashed himself upon his seat and shifted around a bit, looking content. Or, as content as something quite that hideous could possibly look.

"Are you prepared?"

The slightest of pauses.

"Affirmative."

The Vogon cleared his throat.

"_Roses are red…asphyxiated carbon-based beings are blue…_"

From outside the Poetry Appreciation room, the two at the window spotted a tell-tale eyebrow raise from the captive.

"_The borogroves were oh so mimsy, they stick to me like glue_…"

A careful observer would notice the slight turn down of Spock's mouth, the slight furrowing of his eyebrows.

"_MY MISTRESS'S EYES ARE NOTHING LIKE THE SUN…_"

There it was: an unmistakable grimace on the Vulcan's visage, however ephemeral.

"_LURGID MICTURATIONS DANCE AND HAVE THEIR FUN."_

Oh dear. Rhyme scheme. The two at the window grimaced, but continued watching the Vulcan, whose façade of calmness was quickly fading. He now looked a little more than vaguely disconcerted—he was twitching around in discomfort. The sound amplification devices on his temples and forehead were obviously doing their job. With each line, he struggled more and more against the restraints.

"_YOUR LOVE DOES MUCH TO SUFFOCATE ME,_" Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz warbled. This was too much. Even from outside the door, they could hear the Vulcan's small whimpers of suppressed agony.

"_AS IF WE WERE TRAPPED IN SEPULCHERS BY THE SEA_."

Panting and moaning from the Poetry Appreciation Chair, now; the observers on the other end of the door were shocked. Yes, it was _awful_, but…?

"_TYGER, TYGER! BURNING BRIGHT! NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP TONIGHT!_"

A bloodcurdling scream. It sent shivers down Kirk and company's suddenly straightened spines.

"_WE ARE NO STRANGERS TO LOVE!_"

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS LOGICAL!!!" Spock screamed, thrashing about and hyperventilating in the way a Vulcan best knew how. "STOP IT! MAKE IT STOP!"

"_I WANDER LONELY AS A CLOUD, NEVER RUNNING AROUND, NEVER DESERTING YOU_…"

"OH, PLEASE; I IMPLORE YOU!" he sobbed, "BY SURAK, STOOOOOOOOOP! CEASE!"

And then, finally, silence.

"What did you think of my poem?" Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz asked. A moment passed. Spock began to cry.

A few moments later, after the Vogon guard had unstrapped all the restraints on the Poetry Appreciation Chair, Spock calmly walked over to the door with the guard prodding him on.

Kirk and Uhura hurriedly worked together to open the door, and the _Enterprise_ crew—them plus McCoy—all dashed inside to meet the half-Vulcan halfway.

"Spock!" Kirk cried, placing his arms on his first's shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"I am…" He paused a moment.

"A most…_unpleasant _experience, Captain," he finally said, and with that, collapsed into Kirk's arms.

"Mmm," Ford said drolly as he meandered up, Arthur in tow. "Sensitive ears."

###

**(a/n: HEY YOU SEE WHAT I DID THAR?!**

**Okay. So…I may or may not know exactly what's going to happen next. And by that I mean nope, no clue. But it will come to me. Plot bunnies are awful, obsequious little bitches. **

**My deepest apologies, of course, to Misters Carroll, Shakespeare, Adams, Poe, Blake, Wordsworth, and of course, Mr. Astley. I couldn't have done it without them. **

**And, by the way, if you wanted the thread on the original meme where this was first prompted, here you go:**

**.com/st_xi_?thread=21958780**

**You be the judges as to whether or not I'm doin' it right.)**


End file.
